


One Up

by loudspeakr



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: (with just a hint of feels), Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Dom!Link, Hand Jobs, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Sharing a Bed, Sub!Rhett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudspeakr/pseuds/loudspeakr
Summary: Link doesn't win very often, but when he does, he'll take what he can get.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this week's Tropetastic Tuesday prompt "forced bed-sharing - BUT with other people around".
> 
>  
> 
> ~~(May also be inspired by something I did myself once... I'm sorry, what?)~~

Fuck, he’s gonna lose.

Out of the corner of his eye, Link can see Rhett tipping his cup back over his head, having drained its entire contents like a freakin’ machine. His best buddy crushes it in his massive fist before tossing it aside, and he hears it clatter on the dirt.

Rhett’s up to his last beer. Link’s gonna lose.

The last gulp of his current beer goes down without a hitch – a _miracle_ in and of itself – but he knows there’s no catching up now. Still, the evil glint in Rhett’s eye is stoking a fire that giving up will never quell, so Link reaches for his last beer and begins to chug.

There’s hollering and chaos erupting all around them, the roaring campfire casting a barbaric glow over their audience – he didn’t realise their drinking contest had become the main attraction – and Link spots Gregg off to the side, cheering both of them on. That snake. He’s meant to be on Link’s side, being closer friends with _him_ and all.

Whatever. All that matters now is winning. Because – and nobody else knows this – the stakes are higher than they seem, higher than ever before.

When you’ve been best friends for well over a decade, as close as brothers usually aren’t, certain things become important to you. Sacred, even. To Link and Rhett, it’s competition, one-upmanship. As boys, it started off simple: racing down to the river at the crack of dawn, withstanding balls being thrown at your balls without so much as a whimper, jumping over rotten cows without landing in them. Easy stuff like that.

But then they grew up, and so did their competitive spirit. It suddenly became all about kissing girls first, touching boobs first, sticking it in first. Rhett had Link beat there, the majority all his, with Link taking out the first kiss by a matter of weeks. It was still infuriating despite that, being smaller and shyer, the shadow to Rhett’s hulking personality.

And then they started fooling around, the two of them. No big deal. Blame it on the hormones, on the unnecessary sexualisation in pop culture these days, on boys just wanting to be boys. It was purely transactional, the simple theory of supply and demand in full practical effect.

(At least that’s what Link tells himself in the confines of his own nineteen-year-old, testosterone-fuelled mind.)

So it was only a matter of time before their two favourite pastimes collided. And that’s what’s brought them here, to this night down by the lake and their secret bet. Lose, and it would mean total humiliation. Needless to say, Link’s desperate to redeem himself tonight of all nights.

Anyway, the beer is warm at this point, and Link fucking _hates_ warm beer, but he all but pours it down his gullet anyway. There’s sweat breaking out on his forehead, as if he’s a goddamn athlete or something, and he’s clinging onto the plastic cup for dear life when he hears it. A cough. A splutter. Link makes himself down the last of his drink before taking a look.

Across the way, Rhett’s got a hand clawed into the card table between them, his cup set down as he gasps in the smoky night air. Link rounds the table to his friend, claps him on the back a few times to help.

“You all right, man?”

“Yeah,” Rhett manages, before his breathing eventually evens out again. He sends a smile Link's way, slow and sweet. (And Link's heart might’ve done a backflip in response.) “Thanks, Link. Went down the wrong pipe.”

Then his eyes dart across the table at Link’s side, and several things happen all at once.

Someone grabs onto Link’s hand and yanks it high into the air. Rhett’s eyes bug out – even more than usual – and his jaw drops, mouth forming a comical O. The crowd _somehow_ gets louder, rowdier, and Link gets lifted onto some-buff-guy-he’s-never-met-before’s shoulders.

And that’s when he sees the inside of Rhett’s cup, sitting lonesome and half-forgotten on the table. Beer. There’s beer in there.

He fucking did it.

There’s no holding back the roar he lets out, fists clenched in the air, hearing the forest echo it back to him. It irritates his throat raw, but he doesn’t care, keeps yelling until he’s set back down on the ground. He won. He’s the winner. _He beat Rhett._

With the crowd quickly losing interest and dispersing, Link finally approaches the defeated, whose jaw is still slack in disbelief.

“I don’t believe it,” Rhett mutters, voice pitched low for only Link. A quick pinch of an ass-cheek has his mouth snapping shut, a promise of things to come.

It’s gonna be a great night.

The party quickly dies down from here on out, and everyone heads back to the cabins they’ve rented for the night. It’d been decided earlier that Rhett and Link could have the massive couch because Rhett needs it for his back, and Link ain’t gonna sleep on the floor. They can share – which is fine, because hey, they’re best friends, nothing weird over here.

The room is full, all of them students wanting to save a buck by fitting an entire dorm into an ordinary living room. As such, there are people everywhere, finding spots where they can, unrolling sleeping bags and laying out blankets. A few of these guys, Link doesn’t immediately recognise – but everyone’s nice and too drunk to care at this point anyway.

Gregg stakes his claim by setting his pillow down on the ground by the boys’ couch, and Rhett gives him a curt nod before stripping down to his boxers. Link can tell Rhett’s nervous, the showmanship and bravado is long gone, it’s just good old plain humility now, the telltale mark of a _loser_.

Link lets out a laugh, knowing full well that he must look crazy in doing so. But the satisfaction coursing through his veins is too much to bear – _ugh_ , it just feels so good. So he lets the endorphins run rampant before pulling his clothes off as well.

“I’ll take the back,” his smartass mouth says when he moves into position, and Rhett just straight up glares at him. Fuck, this is fun. He can see why Rhett enjoys it so much, all the taunting and teasing. No wonder he doesn’t let up when he wins.

Link should really try winning more often.

He fluffs his pillow before settling in, and Rhett climbs in after him. As per usual, Rhett forgot his own bedding, but that’s okay. Link’s got him – they can share his blanket, and Link always brings two pillows to these things. For this exact reason, if not for any other.

The room soon quietens, and someone turns off the light, plunging them into near-perfect darkness. Rhett takes the opportunity to shuffle backwards under their blanket, coming in close enough for Link to touch his nose to Rhett’s spine. He smells of campfire, of woodsy earth, his back warm and slightly sweaty from the shenanigans earlier. It might be Link’s favourite smell, a nice reminder of home. (Not that he’d ever admit as much ‘cause that’s _weird_.) Link pushes the thought away before touching Rhett gently, a light trailing of his fingers on Rhett’s hip. Rhett shivers in response.

“You okay?” Link asks for the second time tonight, knowing his friend can hear the grin on his face.

“Yeah, just –” Rhett huffs, and he illustrates his request by pressing his ass into Link’s crotch.

Oh, _right_. He wants to get it over with. Got it.

Link pulls Rhett in closer, realising he’s already half-hard himself after all this build-up. His brain’s a bit slow on the uptake, compromised after all the beer he’s had tonight, because he’s usually on top of these things. Which is funny because he’s about to be on top of – eh, never mind.

Pressing a silent kiss to the nape of Rhett’s neck, Link sits up a little to reach inside his pillowcase, where he’s kept his stash. (Always be prepared – isn’t that what boy scouts say?) Once he finds it, Link touches the bottle to Rhett’s side in warning, and Rhett flinches at its coolness.

 _Tsk, tsk,_ Rhett should know the rules better by now. No resisting. And even an innocent bodily function such as flinching counts as disobedience.

(Honestly, Link knows he isn’t playing fair, but fuck it, he’s in charge tonight. He won fair and square after all.)

In an act of pure dominance, Link reaches around and delves into Rhett’s boxer shorts, grabbing firmly at Rhett’s cock. Rhett freezes, caught unawares, and a thrill shoots through Link. Interestingly enough, it seems his friend has no problem with the situation he’s found himself in because he’s already sporting a half-chub himself.

Link squeezes the flesh in his hand, and Rhett lets out a low, barely-there whine. Beneath the covers, Link can feel Rhett feeling around for his waistband.

“Hey, no touching,” Link whispers, loud enough for most of the room to hear. He’s feeling especially cocky tonight – and besides, it’s more fun if Rhett’s squirming.

“Trouble in paradise, guys?”

It’s Gregg piping up from the floor, poking fun. He usually does when it comes to Link and Rhett’s friendship. But Link lets it slide this time, the joke utterly harmless all things considered.

“You have no idea, man.” It’s a neat development in Link’s mind, sparking up a conversation with their roommate while he’s got a fist wrapped around Rhett’s length, pumping nice and steady. He knows Rhett will keep quiet. He’s the mouthy one out of them both, and if he so much as sighs, he’ll give the whole game away. Behold phase two in tonight’s torturous line-up. “He takes up the whole fucking couch, barely any room at all. I’m gonna have to wrassle him in my sleep.”

The dick in Link’s hand twitches. Interesting indeed.

“I don’t know why you chose to sleep up there together,” comes Gregg’s voice again. There are other conversations happening around them – Link can discern a few of the girls in the far corner talking about something that happened earlier on in the night – so nothing here seems out of the ordinary, thankfully. Link thumbs at the slit of Rhett’s cock, spreading the precome he feels there, and Rhett shudders at his touch. “Link, you coulda slept on the floor. Instead, you decided to be a self-righteous prick.”

Link forces out a chuckle and lets go, leaving Rhett to hang for the time being. He hears him exhale in frustration.

“You’re not wrong, Greggory.” Link’s shorts are easily discarded, sliding them down his gangly legs. They’re both pretty much butt-naked now, save for the scratchy blanket covering them and Rhett’s boxers crowded around his thighs. The possibility of being caught is the kind of shit Link actually loves, and his dick nestled between Rhett’s cheeks pulses in agreement. “I can be pretty dang selfish sometimes.”

The bottle has a flip-cap, so it’s easy enough to squeeze a little dollop out onto his fingers. It’s just a bit of a task to manoeuvre himself into spreading Rhett wide with one hand while making sure not to get any lube on his blanket with the other. This shit has the staying power of fucking bubble-gum tangled up in hair. There’s no way he’s gonna make himself endure sleeping in _that_ all night.

“Yeah, like when you assholes ate my good ice-cream,” Gregg offers, laughing into the darkness. “I can’t believe you thought you’d get away with that.”

Link slips a finger into Rhett’s hole and waits for his friend’s back to relax, pushing in a knuckle at a time as he does. He can hear Rhett attempting to calm himself down, taking even breaths in and out, trying to avoid detection. He isn’t used to receiving, usually being in Link’s current position. So despite his eagerness to be in control tonight, Link takes pity and kneads soothing circles into the plump of Rhett’s ass.

“I don’t know what we were thinkin’, honestly. We’re not that sneaky at all.”

A second finger soon joins the first, and Link deftly dribbles in some more lube. Gregg’s silent for a while before he speaks again.

“Rhett asleep?”

Judging by the pounding heartbeat Link can feel reverberating through Rhett’s back, it’s safe to say he most definitely isn’t.

“Yeah, man. Out cold.”

“Cool… cool.”

Using his two fingers so far, Link massages his friend’s passage as best he can. He can picture Rhett’s face, jaw set and teeth gritted in focus to be ready. Fuck knows he needs it – because two fingers ain’t nothing compared to what’s coming. And god, Link can’t wait. Finding that particular spot, he prods and Rhett reacts, his body convulsing soundlessly.

Thank crap this couch doesn’t creak.

Then Link recalls his conversation. “Somethin’ on your mind, man?”

“I’m just – I’m worried about Rhett.”

“Hm, why?”

Rhett is still when Link pulls his fingers out for the moment, so still he thinks for a second that the man might’ve actually gone to sleep. Doubtful, and a quick tickling of fingers on Rhett’s side confirms it. He squeezes a decent glob of lube out onto his hand and slicks himself up, smoothing the gel along his dick, taking his time to coat the entire thing thoroughly. (He won length after all, while Rhett’s the ‘breadth-winner’ – or so he likes to call himself, much to Link’s displeasure.)

“Stephanie’s been calling for him, but the boy ain’t reciprocating.”

“This is news to me,” and it really is. He thought things between Rhett and Stephanie were long over, after she told him she was actually into Link. Not that he really gives a crap about Stephanie, _pfft_. Or anyone else for that matter. “He tell you he ain’t interested?”

“Well, no. Hasn’t said anything of the sort. Or anything at all. We usually tell each other these things.”

“Y’all having secret meetings without me now?”

“Nah, man.” Gregg chuckles. “Just – he usually confides in me with this sorta thing, like I bet he does with you.”

When his dick feels adequately wet and ready, Link rolls over to better line himself up, lets Gregg keep muttering absolute nothings at him. He hears Rhett’s head move against the pillow, no doubt wanting to look at the action behind him. He settles for wrapping his fingers around one of Link’s wrists instead.

“I’m sure Rhett will tell you when he’s right and ready.”

“I dunno, man. I feel like –”

Link slowly pushes forward.

“– he’s hiding something from us.”

There’s nothing like the feeling of slick heat pressing in around him when it’s Link’s turn to top. It gives him chills every time, sends them shooting down his arms and legs until he’s lost in an overload of tingling nerves. And then, from there, he’s usually one to rush things, to drive in hard and fast to send them both barrelling towards ecstasy. But he’s gotta be stealthy tonight, so he presses in slowly, every second more agonising than the last. Even so, he’s surprised to find it feels different like this – like he can feel every single ridge of Rhett’s passage, squeezing him for all he’s worth.

“And what do you think that is?”

Rhett’s trembling, his grasp unsteady around Link’s wrist, as Link continues to inch his way forward. He couldn’t possibly feel this good with anyone else – Rhett’s basically his other half at this point, and he doesn’t fucking care how that sounds. They’ve known each other since childhood, their lives entangled in a way that can never be unravelled. Maybe there’ll be a day when they’re made to find someone else, but for now – god, yes, this will do.

It just about knocks the air out of him when Link’s hips finally meet the base of Rhett’s spine, his entire length embedded in his best friend’s ass. He holds himself there for a moment, spreads a palm across Rhett’s chest to hold them both steady. Rhett’s heartbeat is frantic, desperate to let Link know how alive he feels. He gets it, knows it all too well himself.

“I think there’s someone else, someone he’s not telling us about.”

Now might be a good time to tune back into the conversation. Rhett has notably stopped moving altogether.

“That’s stupid, Gregg.” It’s hard to keep himself sounding casual when he feels so fucking good. “He would tell us.”

“Don’t think he would. Not if it’s someone he’s ashamed of.”

Okay, way to kill a boner, man. Tonight isn’t the night to be shitting on his parade. Not when he’s balls deep in a guy he might sort of, kind of feel something for, _maybe_.

Not when he’s the damn winner.

“Now, listen here –”

But Gregg’s still thinking out loud. “Or maybe it’s someone he just really likes. Maybe he’ll want our approval, hah.”

That’s when Rhett chooses to clench down hard before shoving backwards, the sudden shock of friction on his dick pushing a moan out of Link.

“Whoa, you okay, man?”

The cheeky fucker. He’s fighting back. “Yeah, ah. Asshole just rolled on my shoulder.”

“Oh, ow…” (And he thanks his lucky stars that Gregg isn’t the brightest bulb in the shed.) “I don’t know, Link. You know him better than anyone – you think he’s got someone on the downlow?”

The grip on Link’s wrist tightens, and before he knows it, his hand is being resettled around Rhett’s cock. Still covered by Rhett’s palm, Link begins to stroke again.

“Hard to say, really.”

Wait, this is meant to be _his_ prize, not Rhett’s. No fucking way he’ll be manipulated so easily. With Rhett still firmly in his grasp, retaliation comes in the form of his hips snapping back and shoving forward again. Rhett gasps, clenching around him.

“Oops,” he whispers in mock concern, grinning into the back of Rhett’s head. “Watch your arm, dude.”

“See, this is what I’m talkin’ about. You shoulda left the couch to Rhett.”

There’s not much longer left to go before this is over – Link can feel it licking up his spine, edging them closer with every little move now – so he’s gonna make this last while he can. It doesn’t take much to distract Rhett from his boxers snapping back into place, at least on the front, because Link covers up the evidence right away by gripping Rhett’s needy cock through the fabric. He’s sure Rhett knows what he’s up to. The mess is part of it: there’ll be no cleaning up until the morning. And Rhett’s gotta lie in the bed he’s made.

Meanwhile, Link’s started thrusting now, still slow, still quiet, thankful for the slick of the lube he’d been more than generous with. He ignores the overflow spilling onto the couch, refusing to let the disgust bowl him over. This is his moment, let him goddamn enjoy it, lube-soaked couch and all. He almost wants the lights to switch on, wants all eyes on him taking all he’s ever wanted, wants to bask in the moment when everything is finally laid out on the table.

Besides, he’s pretty sure the entire dorm already thinks they’re hot for each other. Oh, if only they knew…

“Link?” Gregg’s sleepy voice finds him again, and god, if it isn’t the last thing Link wants to hear right now.

“What is it?”

In his arms, Rhett is all but shaking, trying to hold back the inevitable. But Link’s too good, he knows this because Rhett knows how to talk while they’re at it, so he _keeps_ at it because, nope, Rhett isn’t getting what he wants. (Not if Link can’t get what _he_ so desperately wants either.)

“How about you, man? Who are you into these days?”

A few more pumps, and Rhett shudders one last time, and Link can feel a new wetness bleeding through his boxers. He resists the urge to let go, keeps coaxing aftershocks out of his buddy until he’s being pried off. But Link’s not done, not just yet, but he won’t be too long after. He grits his teeth and fucks into Rhett as slickly as he can without rousing suspicion, chasing his own release.

“Dunno. Nobody.”

So close, _so close_. Just a little –

“Aw, c’mon.”

“Quit it, Gregg.” Seriously, shut the fuck up.

“Tell me!”

“It’s nobody!”

“Who is it?”

Ugh, fuck it. “Rhett, it’s Rhett, okay?”

He’s being swept under when Gregg bursts out laughing, the sheer force of his orgasm dulling the sound into white noise. There are fireworks exploding under his skin, stars bursting behind his eyelids, shut tight to block out the rest of the room.

Through the haze, he feels Rhett’s hand find his thigh, knows the touch is an acknowledgement of his admission. Rhett could always cut right through Link’s bullshit. Figures – sometimes it feels like he knows Link better than Link knows himself. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if Rhett knew all this time.

They’ll deal with it in the morning.

Gregg’s drunken laughter has almost died down when Link finally comes down again, the ringing in his ears ebbing away.

“You’re a funny bastard, Neal,” he murmurs seemingly to himself. Link doesn’t have the breath or the effort to reply, instead letting a minute of glorious silence follow.

And then – _blessedly_ – he hears the familiar sound of snoring. Gregg’s finally fallen asleep.

There’s still whispering in the far corner when Rhett takes Link’s arm to drape over himself. His chest is still heaving, his heartbeat slowing, his skin hotter than it was before. Link presses his cheek to Rhett’s bare shoulder blade, pulling the blanket in closer around them.

They’ll wait until the room is still and perfectly silent to move apart. For now though, Link stays put, stays wrapped around Rhett, keeps Rhett wrapped around him.

Because soon, the sun will rise once more, bringing with it a new morning…

And another shot at the title.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, ya filthy beast. 
> 
> <333


End file.
